


Mannimarco/Vestige!Torenn 1

by altmeris



Series: Elder Scrolls Online stories [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Smut, Torenn Salvia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altmeris/pseuds/altmeris
Summary: A short drabble about Vestige!Torenn and her confused feelings for Mannimarco.





	Mannimarco/Vestige!Torenn 1

That. Fucking. _Necromancer._

Torenn hated him! Hated him! Fury bubbled in her gut at the very thought of him. How many innocent lives had he taken? Not the least of which being two of her friends… Nonus and Julius would forever despair in Coldharbour. She would never forgive. Never forget.

The halfling was an agent of Meridia. Chosen of Akatosh. Foretold in the Scrolls themselves… the natural enemy of all who delved into necromancy. And most of all the mer whom they all worshiped, who dared not speak his true name out of deepest reverence.

She hated him. He was foul, he was vile, he was cruel. But that in itself presented an entirely different sort of problem.

Because there was something terribly enthralling in the way he looked down at her. He regarded her as a mild annoyance, it was clear in his condescending words, in the expression on his face. Those eyes of saffron, that hair like silk, that wicked looking armor- and he was towering. He dwarfed her… she barely reached his mid chest. And his voice, rich and precise, with a slight rasp and a pronounced Summerset accent.

Why? Why did he have to be an Altmer? Why?! He had hit every single weakness of hers, effortlessly.

And the worst part was, he knew it. He exploited it to its fullest, knowing fully well how easily tempted she was.

Thus Torenn had found herself on her hands and knees like a hound, sweating and cursing, with that damned mer tugging sharply at her hair with one hand, gripping her waist, with the other, nails digging into her skin. It was horrible, wonderful, dear gods this was so wrong, but she loved it. So much that between curses and loud whines, she choked out, “Master… Master…”

“Good girl,” purred Mannimarco.


End file.
